“Have you ever seen a human heart? It looks like a fist wrapped in blood.”
She often smokes to avoid worse habits, between the numbness and the faint probe of what it was to cry or smile.She finds it hard to let it go, to release the line, to raise the gate.
A hand slams in the drawer, and she showers with the lights off and the door open… Left over popcorn seeds, crunched and still stuck between her teeth.
She didn’t want to go out tonight.
Waiting until the hot water runs out, she leans her shoulders back against the cool, tile wall. She’d love to see her dining room turned inside out. Carefully transplanted onto the front yard, arranged and displayed the same way she remembered it.
Without walls, everything seems strange and tranquil. Rebellion is the cure for casual malcontent, however temporary it may be. But in those unabashed moments, she tastes with fleeting tongue the flavors of freedom.
Taken straight from an old ‘journal’ of mine. Written sometime in December ‘07.
